Last Demand
by KillinBuddy
Summary: Harry's non too pleased and has a few demands. Fudge is not entierly thrilled to comply.
1. Shades of Pale

A chill that froze flesh and bone could always be felt in that corridor. It was something that remained there no matter any outside forces. There had been warming charms placed upon the area but they seemed to make it colder for a time, as if the hall was angry at the charms. It was soon left alone, abandoned by the living and the known dead of the schools inhabitants.

In the dark of night a shadowed figure wondered through the halls. This one was never used and so no one would ever catch a student out of bed, not here. The quiet footfalls echoed almost soundlessly off the walls. Picture frames, which should have housed the paintings of random people, were devoid of any such life. Backgrounds of what should have depicted a beautiful day in some place or other were made eerie with emptiness.

Walking cautiously down the silent hall, the chill biting at tightly wrapped skin, the darkened shape of the student shivered. Halfway down the hall the biting grew less, more easy to handle or maybe just grown used to as cold puffs of air were more visible. A Pale, ethereal figure appeared in the hall, pulling the student to a halt.

What was once messy, jet black hair was now softened by the transparency gained after death. Hogwarts robes adorned a too small frame, what can only be assumed as a red and gold tie left to hang around a neck, never to be fastened. A pair of black-rimmed glasses half hid emerald green eyes now dulled with depression. The wisp of a ghostly hand held out in a beckoning gesture. It was the only acknowledgement of the other in the hall before it started off, down the icy path that was all to familiar to dead eyes.

Trailing after a rapidly fading form, the darker figure had to stop at a closed door where the pale boy had disappeared into the wood. Pulling the protesting door open with a creak, an almost empty room came into view. A painting was all that remained it the dust and gloom. The dark and firm looking man glared unmoving at the room's occupant. Black hair blended into the black of a robe and then finally into dark green background. A hand, the same that had beckoned, seemed to gently run over the surface of the painting, careful not to push through it. Emerald gaze looking up at the stern face with a mixture of loathing, hope, pleading and desperation flitting across pale features before fading away without a word.

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I know its short... think of it as a intro thing and don't kill me! hides I sware I dun have the pennies!


	2. Questions of Innocence

It's not my fault I swear! I like completely forgot where I was going with this other then the sort of semi plot thing I had... so I've desided that it will be the plot rather then trying to chreat one to fit into it now cause I think it would change it too much... oh well. You should be happy. I'm ignoring the looming paper for Humanities in order to write this didn't want to do it anyway I should go work on that now though as its 4 pages due tomarrow and I've got... one down!

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The room's occupants could feel the biting chill that didn't seem to want to lax. At the moment they had people that they believed would understand the problem the best. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin stood in a disused room that refused to let light in or the cold die away. They had been in the room for a few hours now and nothing had changed no matter what they did. Ron was starting to get irritated with the lack of progress. "Potter, don't take this the wrong way or anything but would you just go to hell already!" The hot-tempered red head finally snapped. 

"Ronald Weasley!" The warning was clear in Hormone's voice. With a glare at him she stepped away from the group "Harry," Her tone turned to the mothering it usually was when dealing with either of the two boys when they were in school together "You can't just stay here and chase us away." When there was no change she sighed, "I wish you would just tell us what's wrong."

The room seemed to be waiting for something and in the end they got their response. A pale-transparent figure appeared in the room. It was lying on the floor, covered in silvery blood; a blade embedded in black school robes. Black framed glasses were knocked off to the side in a steadily growing pool of the silver blood.

A startled scream came from the bushy haired girl and the scene was gone. Once she had calmed herself enough to speak Hermione managed to mutter, "that was cruel Harry." There was a sniff as she knocked away Ron's comforting hand "I've lived with that image for so long and then you refresh it. That was just hateful"

The others had all tried their bit to get Harry to speak but this was the first time he had shown that he was listening to anyone but a few wondering students. Had he not done that they wouldn't be in the room now. Everything was quiet for a while before the pale body formed again. This time the silvery blood was gone and all that was there was an impassive Gryffindor.

The room's occupants were startled. It had been almost a year since any of them had seen the boy standing in the shadows of the room and only one had ever seen anything close to the look on his face. Voldemort had seen pain and anger on his face before it snuffed his life like a candle in the wind. This was, anger of course, but also there was the hurt and rage of betrayal.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice received a glare as if daring her to say the name again. "Harry please!" the plea was ignored as he turned away from them to look at the wall behind him. Gaze focused on a shadowed portrait that near disappeared into the dark of the room.

"Harry my boy…" The headmaster's voice was cut off

"NO!" Harry's ghostly voice boomed in the room commanding silence of all living or non. "No!" it was less booming but remained forceful as Dumbledore tried to speak again. The ghostly figure had swirled around to glare at the old man at the first word. If possible he looked even angrier then before.

Lupin decided to try and convince him to explain "Harry?" The voice of the closet thing he had left to a father caught his attention. "I want to help you, we all do," he received a disbelieving huff for that comment, "I just don't know how I can. You need to tell me, please Harry."

The pale Gryffindor heard the underlying plea 'don't make me lose you too' the unspoken reference to Sirius made him pause. His godfather's death, although nearly three years ago, was still fresh in his mind. The last two years had been a living hell with him questioning if it was his fault. Everyone had told him it wasn't and yet the only one they convinced was themselves. "He's not guilty,"

The words echoed in the silence for a minute before Lupin tried to comfort him "of course he's not. Pettegrew was a rat in every form"

Harry shook his head "No, not Sirius. I know he was innocent and so do you all…" He paused, considering if he should continue "Snape" There was an awkward silence hanging over the others that Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Oh Harry," Hermione looked close to tears "I'm so sorry! If I had known he was going too…" Her voice broke off, not able to say it.

"I want to go to the ministry. He's in Azkaban?"

Ron nodded "I told you that greasy git wasn't any good. He bloody well deserves…

Harry turned on him "Stop it" The threat in his voice silenced the red head "I want to prove his innocence" There was a second awkward silence in the room, this time however Harry was more attune to it. "He didn't do anything. He wouldn't."

Dumbledore started speaking again noticing the glare Harry sent his way but choosing to ignore it "The ministry won't take the word of the dead, my boy" Harry looked ready to protest and he continued, "He has already had his trial. They won't spend time to reconvict an already convicted man"

Harry was enraged by this time and looked like he wanted to strangle the old wizard. The room grew colder and a desk on the other side of the room, long since forgotten, busted into pieces "Bring them here" his voice was as cold as the room "or I'll do more then scare those that wonder my halls" The Gryffindor disappeared leaving no time for them to argue.

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Oh yes! I own the voices in my head that joined in with my friends for once in yelling at me to write... thats about it, though soon I will also be the proud owner of a straight jacket when people read this


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